


Paying the price

by BlushLouise



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Egg Laying, Eggpreg, Insecticons - Freeform, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Oviposition, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, dual spikes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 18:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15757119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushLouise/pseuds/BlushLouise
Summary: With Megatron on the rampage, Starscream's hunting for new allies. The Insecticons demand a steep price for their assistance, but with the fate of his seekers at stake Starscream sees no other option.He had certainly never expected that honoring the agreement would be so pleasurable.





	Paying the price

This part of the Nemesis was almost always abandoned. The security system barely worked, there were no cameras, half of the hallways were perpetually flooded and the other half was full of Insecticons.

Normally, Starscream would avoid this level like cosmic rust. But not today.

He stalked down the hallway as if he owned it – if you looked like you belonged, there was less chance of someone intercepting you – toward the door at the end. He’d barely knocked before it opened and a hand pulled him inside .

“Unhand me,” he snarled.

“Why?” the Insecticon replied. “We’ll soon be seeing much more of you, won’t we?”

“Kickback, ease up, up,” Shrapnel said, turning toward Starscream. “He’s a guest, guest. We’ll treat him with utter courtesy, courtesy.”

“Yes, you will, or this deal is off.” Starscream tried to keep his screech under control. He needed to keep his edge with these ingrates. 

“Yes, the deal,” Kickback said, and the look on his face made Starscream’s plating crawl. “What were the terms of that again?”

“You stay away from me and my seekers in the upcoming purge,” Starscream growled. “You do not attack us, Bombshell does not use those damn shells of his on us, in short you leave us be. If Lord Megatron,” the name was practically a sneer, “orders you lot to go after us, you fake it, then tell him we’re loyal. We’re not to be harmed. And in return…”

He balked. He couldn’t say it.

“In return, there’ll be plenty of touching.”  Kickback grinned. It was not a pleasant expression.

“Kickback, enough, enough,” Shrapnel said, sounding as exasperated as Thundercracker did when he had to handle Skywarp’s antics. “In return, Starscream, you carry two clutches for us, us. One now, and one after, after. That is the deal, deal.”

“Viable clutches, though,” Kickback put in. “Fertilized.”

Starscream shuddered. He couldn’t help it. This was a far cry from what he’d had in mind when he’d sworn to always protect his own. Thundercracker and Skywarp had better be grateful after this. Not that he could tell them – the fewer who knew what was going on, the better.

“It’s a steep price.” He sneered. “I’m supposed to let you debase my frame for a simple promise of non-combat?”

“You’re offering your frame to protect your frame, and the frames of those who follow you, you,” Shrapnel replied. “You know as well as I do that Megatron is out for energon this time, time. He won’t let anyone go unpunished, unpunished. The three of you could end up split, your other seekers returned to Shockwave on Cybertron, your trine destroyed, destroyed. That’s if he lets you live, live. He already suspects you, Starscream, Starscream.”

“Besides, there’s no debasing involved,” Kickback purred, and he was suddenly very close to Starscream’s wings. “It’s a pleasure. Or so I’m told.” One claw stroked a white wing appreciatively.

“Don’t touch me,” Starscream snarled, twitching his wing away. “You haven’t earned that right.”

“Yet,” Kickback whispered into his audial, and Starscream shuddered. Shrapnel hissed, and Kickback pulled back a bit.

“Do you agree, Starscream, Starscream?” Shrapnel asked softly.  “It’s your only option, option.”

Starscream winced. He did not like being reminded of that, thank you. “Agreed,” he spat, forcing back the code string that wanted him to purge at the thought.

Shrapnel straightened, gave him a smile. “Good, good. Have you read the file I sent, sent?”

“Yes,” Starscream growled. “I know the technicalities.”

“There’s so much more to it than that,” Kickback chuckled from behind him, and was that a _glossa_ caressing his helm vent!?

The faint hum of a null ray powering up was unmistakable in the silence.

“Kickback, leave us, us,” Shrapnel said sharply, following the command with another of those sharp hisses. “Starscream, if you’re ready, come with me, me.”

Starscream whipped around and stared at the Insecticon. “What, _now_?”

“Yes, yes,” Shrapnel said. “Everything’s ready, ready.”

 _He_ wasn’t ready. But Shrapnel was right, now was as good a time as any. He wasn’t sure he could manage to make himself come back here, both knowing and not knowing what awaited him.

Hiding his trepidation, he stepped forward. “All right.”

Shrapnel turned, and Starscream followed.

In the back of the dark room, there was a door. Past that, there was another door, and this one was locked to Shrapnel’s signature, apparently. And past that…

Starscream’s optics widened as he looked around.

“Does it please you, you?” Shrapnel said, and he almost sounded anxious.

Starscream only took cursory notice of the Insecticon, though. He was far too busy looking around.

At the lengths upon lengths of stringed lights hanging from the ceiling, lighting the room in a dull purple glow. At the piles of pillows and blankets, built up into what could only be called a nest in the center of the floor. The energon cubes stacked high on the table by the wall. The clean, gleaming wash racks in the back.

“How long have you been planning this?” he asked incredulously.

“The need has been growing, growing,” Shrapnel admitted, looking away. “We just needed a host, host.”

“So you need me just as much as I need you, then,” Starscream said. That was a useful bargaining chip to have. Anything he could salvage from this pit of a situation was a bonus.

“Yes, yes,” Shrapnel whispered. “Though anyone would do, I’m glad it’s you, you. I have to admit that I hadn’t dared hope for such a beautiful host, host. So strong, so smart, so fierce, fierce.” The Insecticon lifted a hand   towards Starscream’s cheek, hesitating when Starscream leaned away. “Do you wish to back out, out?”

Starscream was very tempted. But he couldn’t afford to shy away from his only possible ally against Megatron’s – somewhat justified - paranoia. “I can’t,” he growled. “You know that very well. That doesn’t mean you get to drag this out. Or push the boundaries.”

“You read the file, file,” Shrapnel breathed, taking a step closer into Starscream’s personal space. “You know what’s coming, coming.”

“I know the basics,” Starscream spat, resisting the urge to back away again. “Interfacing fertilizes the clutch, they’re implanted, they incubate for a while, they’re laid, they hatch.”

“That is the bare basics, basics,” Shrapnel agreed, smiling slightly. “But there’s so much more, more.”

“More?” Starscream protested, wincing as his vocalizer shrilly shot through two octaves. “What haven’t you told me?”

“It’s more that you didn’t read enough, enough,” Shrapnel replied, and this time there was a definite smirk on his faceplate. “Will you let me show you, you? It will be pleasurable, I promise, promise.” He held out his hand to Starscream, waiting .

Starscream watched the offending limb for a long few seconds, deliberating. Then… “You better not make me regret this,” he snarled, placing his hand in the Insecticon’s.

“No regrets, I swear, swear,” Shrapnel hummed happily. He gave Starscream’s hand a gentle tug until the seeker followed him, and led him over to the nest. “Sit, please, please.”

Starscream reluctantly did so.

His seekers had better be safe after this, and Thundercracker and Skywarp had better be beyond themselves with gratitude. He would _never_ let them forget how much they owed him.

“So pretty, pretty,” Shrapnel breathed, moving to stand behind Starscream. “So exquisite, so gorgeous, so perfect, perfect.” As he spoke, he bent down until his hot ex-vents could be felt over Starscream’s sensitive audials. “Will make you feel so good, good.”

Starscream shivered.

“Pretty seeker, seeker,” Shrapnel praised, barely nuzzling at Starscream’s neck cabling. “Please let me touch you, you.”

Ex-vents caressed sensitive cables, moving along his neck to his jawline and tracing up his helm vents. Shrapnel had a pleasant musk to him, like hot metal and cool high grade. It was enough to draw Starscream in, make him turn his head, leaning toward the Insecticon. He in-vented deeply, and it felt as though the scent turned his struts to lines of hot, glowing embers.

“Yes,” Starscream breathed, drawing in more of that tantalizing scent. “You may touch me.”

Shrapnel hummed, tracing Starscream’s cheek with one finger. Then he cradled the seeker’s face with both hands. “I am honored, honored.” He leaned in, dimming his optics .  Starscream’s lower lip was caught by gentle denta, nipping softly, a slender glossa probing, and Starscream gasped as Shrapnel claimed his mouth.

Shrapnel’s hands moved from Starscream’s cheeks, traveling down to his throat, and his glossa met Starscream’s – not insistently, like the seeker was used to, not dominantly, but like the Insecticon cherished the contact. The hands moving over his body were almost reverent, and despite himself, Starscream found his core temperature climbing, his plating heating to the touch until Shrapnel’s hands traced lines of fire over his frame.

“So beautiful, my host, host,” Shrapnel murmured, and Starscream felt a flash of surprise at the breathless quality of the other’s voice. “So lovely, so strong, so desirable, desirable. I am yours to command, command.”

Starscream trilled at the words, feeling the first tell-tale signs of his valve lubricating, much earlier than he had ever expected. Honestly, he hadn’t expected this to be pleasurable at all, but he had never been happier to be wrong.

Trembling blue hands moved at last, following Shrapnel’s arms up to strong shoulders, moving across them until he could touch those shiny antennae, and Shrapnel _moaned_.

The sound sent shivers down Starscream’s spinal struts, and he caught Shrapnel’s mouth eagerly, pressing his whole frame against the Insecticon.

“So good, good,” Shrapnel moaned again as Starscream’s fingers squeezed the silver antennae. “So good, Starscream, please, please…”

“Touch me,” Starscream whispered, relishing the hot frame pressed against his, the heating of his interface panel, the steady zing of electricity on his palms. “You said you would make it pleasurable.”

“So pleasurable, yes, yes,” Shrapnel agreed, his hands sliding around Starscream’s torso to find his wings. “So good, my beautiful host, so gorgeous, Starscream, Starscream…”

Fingers found sensitive ailerons, and Starscream arched his back and keened. “Oh yes, so good, more please Shrapnel please more...!” His spike pressed insistently against his panel, his sensory net ablaze, and he bathed in that scent. He was revved up beyond belief and reveled in those strong arms encircling him as Shrapnel slid closer, one leg on either side of Starscream’s thighs.

Their hot panels met.

Starscream didn’t care that he was begging. He didn’t care that he was supposed to hate this, that this was an _Insecticon_ , so surely beneath him that Starscream hadn’t bothered learning their names before now, because Shrapnel was grinding his heated panel against his own, and it felt _glorious_.

“Starscream, Starscream,” Shrapnel groaned, hands moving tirelessly over Starscream’s sensitive wings. “My Star, oh yes, please, please!”

“You haven’t even opened your panel yet, and you’re this worked up,” Starscream gasped, aiming at teasing and ending with amazement instead.

“What can I say, say,” Shrapnel replied, mouth moving across Starscream’s throat cables. “You’re simply intoxicating, intoxicating. Please, Starscream, please, please…!”

“Oh, all right,” Starscream whispered, shuttering his optics and tilting his head to give Shrapnel better access. “Since you beg so sweetly. And since your touch feels so good on my wings.”

His panel slid aside with a soft click, spike pressurizing instantly.

“Oh yes, yes,” Shrapnel panted, clinging to Starscream’s shoulders. “Oh yes, yes, so beautiful, Starscream, Starscream…”

“Ride me,” Starscream growled, spike hard enough to border on painful.

Shrapnel, though, seemed to have rediscovered some self-control somewhere, because he smirked. “All in good time, time.”

And then he slid backward, bent down and took Starscream’s spike in his mouth.

Starscream arched his back and _whimpered_.

Oh, but Shrapnel was skilled with his glossa. Starscream had been serviced by mouth before, but not like this. He felt worshipped, adored, as Shrapnel teased and licked down his spike and back up, down and up, until Starscream had forgotten everything but the warm frame in front of him.

“Please,” he keened. “Please, Shrapnel – “

“Yes, yes,” the Insecticon replied. “My beautiful Star, yes, yes…” With one last powerful suck, he pulled off, straightening and placing his legs on either side of Starscream’s thighs again.

Starscream caught his helm and kissed him. He heard the soft snick of the Insecticon’s cover moving aside.

Shrapnel sat up, lined up his valve with Starscream’s spike, and hilted himself in one easy movement.

Starscream threw back his head and wailed.

“So good, good,” Shrapnel panted, valve calipers clenching down on Starscream’s length . “So hot, Starscream, Starscream….”

“Move, damn you,” Starscream keened, the threat lacking its usual snark. “Please, Shrapnel, move already, stop tormenting me!”

“Yes, my Star, Star,” the Insecticon whispered, catching Starscream’s mouth with his own. “Whatever you want, want.” His hips began moving, tantalizingly slow.

The friction was divine. Starscream moaned into Shrapnel’s mouth, his hands sliding down from those teasing antennae to cradle Shrapnel’s aft, following his movements, holding him close. Content for now to let someone else have control over the act.

And what an act it was. Shrapnel moaned, working his valve calipers over Starscream’s length until the seeker thought he would offline from the sheer pleasure coursing through his systems. The Insecticon never broke the kiss, and Starscream never wanted him to. It was soft, attentive, endless, the perfect counterpoint to the sharp movements of their hips.

“Faster,” Starscream whimpered. “Shrapnel, please, faster.”

“Faster, my beauty, beauty,” Shrapnel agreed, long glossa worshipping Starscream’s mouth. “Harder, too, I think, think.”

He changed the pace, and Starscream wailed.

“So good, so perfect, perfect,” Shrapnel grunted, slamming his hips against Starscream’s again, calipers rippling beautifully along the seeker’s spike.

“Oh yes, please, more,” Starscream breathed, hands squeezing hard enough against Shrapnel’s plating that dents were unavoidable.

Plating ground against plating, sparks jumped between their frames. Electricity surged against Starscream’s palms as he stroked silver antennae, and he thrust up into that hot, slick heat until it was all he could feel. Even the loud keening and endless stream of begging coming from his own vocalizer didn’t register on his cortex.

Shrapnel grunted and bit down on the seeker’s main energon line, and Starscream overloaded with a shout.

Shrapnel didn’t still, though. The Insecticon calmed, rotating his hips instead of rising up and down, but his valve calipers were relentless. He prolonged Starscream’s overload, eager valve drawing in every ounce of fluid from his jutting spike, and just as Starscream was finally coming down, Shrapnel did something really clever with his valve and hips to throw him straight into a secondary overload. This time Shrapnel stiffened too, keening and pressing himself against Starscream’s cockpit.

Starscream’s optics shorted out, and he collapsed against the heavy Insecticon on his lap.

“So good, my Star, so perfect, perfect,” Shrapnel breathed, cradling the spent and sated seeker. “Rest now, my Star, and I will take care of you, you.”

Starscream could only manage a simple hum in response before recharge claimed him.

 

There was a low fuel warning flashing on his HUD. His struts felt molten, somehow, and he was weary almost down to his core.

“Good morning, morning,” a voice said, and Starscream onlined his optics.

He was lying in the nest, and Shrapnel was looking down at him. Starscream didn’t know what that look in the Insecticon’s eyes was, it wasn’t something he could remember having seen before. Not directed at him, anyway.

“You must be running on fumes, fumes,” Shrapnel continued, holding a cube toward Starscream’s hands. “Please, take this, this. There’s more where it came from, from.”

“Thank you,” Starscream replied, rebooting his vocalizer halfway through to get rid of the static. He sat up and took the proffered cube, draining it.

The silence afterward was awkward. Shrapnel sat watching him, and Starscream didn’t know what to say or do.

“I’m clean,” he settled for, finally, after staring everywhere but at his Insection… lover, he supposed, now.

“Yes, yes,” Shrapnel replied. “I washed you, you. I promised to take care of you, and I will, will.” He looked toward the corner of the room. “There’s a wash rack, if you so desire, desire.”

That last word sent faint tendrils of heat down Starscream’s back strut, and he looked at the Insecticon appreciatively. “Maybe later.” He winked. “Primus knows, I might become positively filthy again soon.”

Shrapnel smiled at that, and it was a curiously shy gesture. “The solvent is cold, anyway, anyway,” he said. “I heated the solvent in the bowl for washing you, but I don’t have the skill to work with the Nemesis plumbing, plumbing.”

“Heated solvent? Really?” Starscream brightened as he noticed the steaming bowl set to the side of the nest. He made himself comfortable on his front. “Will you do my back, as well? And my wings?”

“Of course, course,” Shrapnel said, and he sounded happy of all things. As if the chance to pamper Starscream was all he’d ever wanted.

Starscream sighed happily as the warm cloth rubbed carefully over the expanse of his wings. It felt wonderful, and for a short while he lost himself in the sensation. And then the touch did decidedly less innocent things to his systems – not through any fault of Shrapnel’s, he was still moving the cloth in small, gentle circles. But Starscream had his face pressed into the material of the nest, and he inhaled the heady scent of the Insecticon that had rested there the night before. Something in it set his sensor net on fire.

“So, the clutch,” he began, casually, carefully. “Did we – well – you know, did we succeed last night?”

“It’s impossible to tell until they’re laid, but the chances are good, good,” Shrapnel said, and the washing turned into more of a caress.

Starscream turned his head toward him and smiled. “Want to improve their chances?”

“Really, really?” Shrapnel paused, staring at Starscream with wide-eyed surprise.

Abruptly embarrassed, Starscream turned away and pouted. “Well, if you don’t want to…”

“It’s not that, that,” Shrapnel said hurriedly. “I don’t want to make you do something that wasn’t part of the deal, deal.”

Starscream twisted beneath him, sitting up. “Viable clutch,” he reminded him. “It’s good to better the chances. Besides,” and now he grinned, “I had a lot of fun last night. I wouldn’t mind a repeat performance.”

The smile on Shrapnel’s face was dazzling. And when Starscream pushed him back into the nest lining, he went willingly.

Last night, Starscream had admired Shrapnel’s frame but hadn’t gotten a chance to explore. Now, with Shrapnel on his back beneath him, he mapped out every sensitive nook and cranny of Shrapnel’s frame, paying special attention to the seams around his golden chest plate and antennae. The Insecticon gasped and arched beneath him, making the most lovely noises, and Starscream reveled in them. He could get used to having such a responsive lover.

“Ah, Starscream, Starscream,” Shrapnel breathed. Strong hands grasped the seeker’s helm and pulled him down into a kiss. Starscream moaned around Shrapnel’s long, prehensile glossa, just as adept at mapping out his mouth as it was at working over his spike yesterday.

Just the thought of that made his panel slide back.

He pulled back, breaking the kiss. “What is it about you that revs me up so easily? I mean, I’m a seeker, but I’ve never been ready this fast.”

Ready was an understatement. His spike _ached_.

“It’s the musk, musk,” Shrapnel replied, eyeing Starscream’s spike. “It’s to ready the host for carrying, carrying.”

“So basically, you’re drugging me,” Starscream said, chuckling at the shocked look on the Insecticon’s face. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I don’t think I mind much. Not if I get to sample that slick valve again.”

“It’s not a drug, drug,” Shrapnel protested. “It’s merely a stimulant, meant to prepare your frame, frame.”

Starscream raised an optic ridge at him, then leaned down and let his glossa travel the length of Shrapnel’s audial. “I hate to break it to you, Shrapnel dear, but a stimulant _is_ a drug. And I believe I said that I don’t mind. Now open.”

The speed with which Shrapnel obeyed was very gratifying indeed.

Starscream smiled at the sight of Shrapnel’s bare valve. Shrapnel’s spike was still recessed, probably because of his clutch.

Mimicking Shrapnel’s actions from the night before, Starscream lined up and thrust as deeply as he could, trusting in the copious amounts of lubricant to smooth the path. With the way Shrapnel shrieked, his legs folding around Starscream’s narrow hips, his guess that the Insecticon was more than ready was probably correct.

“Oh Star, oh yes, more, please, please,” Shrapnel keened, those eager calipers clenching as deliciously as Starscream remembered, and the seeker was only too happy to give it to him. “So good, Star, yes, yes!”

Starscream growled, thrusting into that tight heat, calipers pulling him further than he thought possible. His hands found those enticing antennae again, and he grasped the base of each, anchoring the Insecticon against his frame for each thrust. Shrapnel moaned again, and his glossa found Starscream’s throat cables, eliciting all kinds of noise from the seeker’s vocalizer. For once, Starscream didn’t care what his voice sounded like. Not when Shrapnel’s hands were on his wing joints, not with that hungry valve pulling him in, and certainly not with the litany of praise falling from the Insecticon’s mouth.

What a time to realize he had a praise kink a mile high.

“Oh yes, Star, so beautiful, so good, please, Starscream, Starscream…”

Starscream snarled, hilting himself in the other, and on impulse, he leaned down and nibbled the silver antenna beneath his hand.

Shrapnel screamed, arching his back, head thrown backward to reveal his throat, and his valve cycled down so tightly around Starscream’s spike that it almost hurt.

It was _exquisite_.

Starscream didn’t let the antenna go, keeping his denta locked around it as Shrapnel rode out his overload. Only when Shrapnel relaxed did he let go and begin thrusting slowly.

Shrapnel looked up at him. “Harder, my lord, lord. Take me, me. I am yours to do with as you please, please.”

Well, wasn’t _that_ the right thing to say. Starscream thrust hard once, twice, and groaned as his spike twitched, emptying into the eager valve clenching around him. He sucked and nibbled Shrapnel’s neck cables for good measure, and then collapsed against the Insecticon without pulling out.

“This stimulant of yours is going to ruin any future lovers for me,” he grumbled.

Shrapnel laughed, a low, throaty sound that had Starscream’s spike twitching again. “Should I be upset, upset?”

“That depends.” Starscream lifted his head to look at him. “Are you going to treat me nicely?”

“You will be pampered and cared for to the best of my ability, my Star, Star,” Shrapnel promised.

“Well, then you have no cause to be upset,” Starscream said, leaning his helm against the other’s chest. “And I shall enjoy this until it’s over, at least. It’s more than I thought it would be.”

Shrapnel lifted a hand and began stroking between Starscream’s wings. “You’re gorgeous, gorgeous. Also, the feeling is mutual, mutual.”

That was a bit too serious for Starscream. He pulled out – reluctantly, because damn if that valve wasn’t the nicest he’d ever had – and flopped over to his back. “I think I need a wash again. And a refuel.” He noticed the sated tiredness in his frame. “And possibly some more recharge.”

“You’re off duty today, correct, correct?”

“Yes,” Starscream confirmed. “And I have the late shift tomorrow.”

“Good, good,” Shrapnel hummed. “Then I shall pamper you for the rest of the time allotted to me, me.”

Starscream sighed in bliss, leaning back against the nest lining. That didn’t sound too bad at all.

 

He couldn’t remember the last time he had a day like this. Lazing around for a whole morning, not leaving the berth until it was too uncomfortable to be that sticky anymore, with an attentive, caring partner who cleaned his back and wings in the wash rack and did it perfectly, and then served him energon afterward.

Too bad there were such things as rationing. And the war. And Megatron.

“A penny for your thoughts, thoughts?” Shrapnel said, nuzzling his neck cables.

“I’m in a bubble,” Starscream replied. “It has to be. This is just too nice.” There had to be a catch.

“I aim to please, please.” Shrapnel hummed into his throat, causing shivers down Starscream’s back struts. “Anything for my beautiful host, host.”

Oh, right. There it was.

“So,” Starscream said, trying to sound cocky and only managing nervous. “You’ve probably figured out that I only skimmed through the files you sent.”

“Yes, yes,” Shrapnel nodded. “For a scientist, you’re not very interested in new knowledge, knowledge.”

“Biology was never my field,” Starscream pouted, offended. “That was always Skyfire.”

“Peace, peace,” Shrapnel said, lifting his hands. “I meant no disrespect, disrespect. I was just surprised, surprised.” When no answer was forthcoming from the seeker, he carefully placed his hands over Starscream’s own. “You had questions, questions?”

Starscream worried at his lower lip, hating himself for the sign of weakness but not managing to stop. “Will it hurt?”

“I would never hurt you, Starscream, Starscream,” Shrapnel replied, placing a finger under the seeker’s chin and tilting his face up. “There is some mild discomfort, but the pleasure far outweighs the pain, pain.”

Starscream nodded. “Good. And, well… how many eggs?”

“Anywhere between four and eight is normal, normal,” Shrapnel said, fingers running across the seeker’s abdomen. “This time, I think five or six, six.” He pressed a slow, tender kiss to Starscream’s lips. “It will feel good for you, you. I promise, promise.”

Starscream in-vented deeply, nodded again. “Okay. Show me.”

Shrapnel looked up at his face, optics focused on his own. “Are you certain, certain? We can wait a little if you’re not ready, ready.”

“I’m ready,” Starscream insisted, though he felt far from it. He didn’t suspect anyone could simply be ready to get themselves infested with Insecticon eggs. But if he thought too much about it, the chance that he would change his mind would be much greater than if they simply got on with it.

“One thing, though,” he whispered. “Gentle. Okay?”

“Gentle, gentle,” Shrapnel agreed. He bent down and laved his long glossa across Starscream’s cockpit glass. “So beautiful, Star, so lovely, so gorgeous, gorgeous.” His frame covered Starscream’s as he gently pushed the seeker backward, until Starscream rested on his back along the nest’s edge. Much like Starscream had done to Shrapnel earlier.

Fingers delved into sensitive transformation seams, seeking out the small nodes and wires that made Starscream twitch and sigh. “More,” he whispered, tilting his pelvis up to give the Insecticon better access. “Set me on fire.”

“You’re so beautiful when you burn, burn.” Shrapnel bent down to trace his glossa along the offered pelvic seam. “Going to make you melt, make you scream, make you forget your own designation, my gorgeous host, host.” He pressed his mouth against the edge of Starscream’s valve cover and hummed, “so hot, so good, Starscream, Starscream…”

Starscream’s vents hitched as the long glossa edged his cover, pressing into the seams, hot ex-vents and open-mouthed kisses caressing the plating. Then Shrapnel kissed his way back up Starscream’s torso, across his abdomen, over his cockpit, nipped his way past his neck cables and caught his mouth.

This time, there was nothing tentative about it. Shrapnel’s larger, more solid frame encompassed Starscream’s completely, and his glossa plundered the seeker’s mouth. Starscream was caught, held, couldn’t move at all… and it was the hottest thing he’d ever experienced.

His valve cover slid back of its own accord.

“So good,” he moaned, Shrapnel’s mouth catching the sound. “More, please, I want – I need –“

“Mine, mine,” Shrapnel growled possessively, and the sharp snikt of his spike cover sliding back was loud even over their screaming fans and wide-open vents. “My host, my treasure, my own, own.” He pressed against Starscream’s bared valve, rutting into the slick lubricant-covered folds, and Starscream keened.

“More!” he whimpered, pressing down against the Insecticon. “Give me more, please!”

“Everything, everything,” Shrapnel panted. “Mine, mine.” He bit down on Starscream’s neck cables and pushed into his slick channel, not stopping until their arrays pressed tightly together.

“Move, slag you,” Starscream growled, and Shrapnel did.

This was not the careful lovemaking from earlier. Each thrust was hard, sharp, accentuated by Shrapnel’s denta on his neck, and Starscream barely noticed as his legs encircled Shrapnel’s hips and held him close. That changed the angle of the thrusts, and Starscream felt Shrapnel’s long, slim spike hit his ceiling node every time.

“So… good,” he panted. “More… gimme… need…”

“Yes, yes,” Shrapnel groaned around his neck cables. He put his arms under Starscream’s knees and lifted, placing the seeker’s legs over his shoulders, and pushed deep.

Starscream overloaded with a shout. Shrapnel’s spike twitched in his now tight valve as the Insecticon bit down even harder on his cables, probably drawing energon. Charged fluid washed against his gestation chamber lock.

The chamber spiraled open.

Shrapnel moaned, licking at the cable he’d nicked, pressing his mouth against Starscream’s again. “So good, so perfect, Star, Star…” He began moving again, thrusting slowly until Starscream’s valve calipers relaxed.

“Are you ready, my beautiful Prince, Prince?” he asked, hazy optics looking into Starscream’s own.

Starscream nodded, still panting. “I’m ready.” And this time, he meant it.

The Insecticon groaned, twitching a bit. And Starscream felt another spike pressing against his valve opening.

This one was thicker, the head tapered to easily slip in alongside the thinner spike already present, and Starscream arched and moaned as the two spikes pressed into him. It felt so good to be stuffed so full, like there was no room for his calipers to clench, nothing but the perfect sensation of the Insecticon’s equipment filling him.

Shrapnel hilted himself for the second time, and started up a slow rhythm. Starscream couldn’t do anything but push against Sharpnel’s pelvic armor, valve clenching hopelessly on a combined girth wider than anything he’d taken before.

“So tight, tight,” Shrapnel moaned, “so good, so right, my Star, Star.”

Starscream  moaned, moving with the larger mech but letting Shrapnel set the pace and force of the thrusts. The tips of both spikes teased the entrance to his chamber, setting off rarely touched nodes, and he keened.

Then Shrapnel changed the pace, and suddenly it was all Starscream could do to hold on to those broad shoulders as he was pounded into the nest padding. Both spike heads pushed into his chamber, making him feel even fuller and driving him over the edge of another spark-shattering overload. Shrapnel screamed with him this time, thick, charged fluid flowing from both spikes and filling his chamber.

And then the smaller spike deflated, withdrawing from his valve. Starscream keened the loss for a moment, until the base of the larger spike began to inflate.

“The knot, knot,” Shrapnel gasped, burrowing down against Starscream’s shoulder. “No going back now, now.”

 “No going back ever,” Starscream countered, letting his hands travel up those mesmerizing antennae, disregarding the fact that he trembled like a leaf in the wind. The pressure at the opening of his valve was intense, painful-delicious, and he had to force himself to not press against it. He remembered this part of the instructions Shrapnel had sent him, and took out his need to touch and twitch on the Insecticon’s antennae instead.

“So good, good,” Shrapnel panted, gently easing Starscream’s legs down while being careful not to tug at his valve. The knot was good and big now, completely blocking his valve opening, and stretching it beyond belief.

As Starscream’s legs landed on the base of the nest, Shrapnel rocked into him.

It wasn’t true thrusting, the knot locking them together made that impossible. They moved together gently, the Insecticon setting the pace. He caught Starscream’s mouth, glossae tangling, as Starscream caressed the silver antennae and hummed in pleasure.

When Shrapnel tensed, he cooed. “Come on, lover. Give them to me.”

Shrapnel shuddered and pressed against him, arms moving below Starscream to cradle the seeker against his chest. “Yes, yes,” he hissed. “Yes, Starscream, oh yes, yes.”

The first egg traveling up inside Shrapnel’s thicker spike pushed Starscream’s valve rim impossibly wide. He’d thought he’d been stretched before, but there was no comparison to this. Starscream moaned, arching into Shrapnel’s touch, as the egg finally passed the rim and moved up his valve, triggering every single sensitive node on its way. It seemed to take forever and not long enough before it pressed against his open chamber, nudging inside and finally slipping free from the spike, and settling like a comfortable weight deep in his belly.

“Oh, yes,” Starscream murmured, relishing the feeling. “Oh, so good, lover. Give me all of them, make me heavy, let me feel them pass into me.”

Shrapnel keened, resting his head on Starscream’s shoulder as the next egg pressed against his entrance. This one slid inside more easily, and Starscream clenched his calipers around the egg-bearing spike as the solid sphere slid upward inside his valve. When it settled next to the first, he shuddered in a minor overload.

He didn’t have time to bask in the sensation, though, as the third and then the fourth followed in quick succession, driving his charge up higher.

“So good,” he chanted, “so good, give them to me, Shrapnel.”

With the fifth egg, Starscream’s calipers clenched again, helping to pull it up and in next to the others. Overload hit him again as it passed the chamber entrance.

Then the knot began to deflate.

“Five, five,” Shrapnel murmured. “So beautiful, Starscream, so perfect, so mine, mine.”

Starscream moaned against his mouth. He felt sated, full and heavy in a way he’d never felt before, like there was a hard heated core inside his abdomen. He rocked against the Insecticon again, chasing that final overload.

Shrapnel’s spike slipped free as the knot deflated, and he grunted and slammed back in. The pace this time was relentless, brutal almost, for one – two – three thrusts, and as Starscream overloaded for the fifth time Shrapnel tensed and arched his back, roaring his completion to the world at large, electricity arching from his antennae. He spurted jet after jet of thick fluid into Starscream’s gestation chamber, enough to fill it to brimming, before collapsing down against his smaller lover.

Starscream slipped offline with the image of arcing electricity in his processor.

 

He onlined sluggishly, every system activating with a slow resistance. He felt heavy, stuffed, like moving would be difficult, and he was warm. Very warm. Uncomfortably warm, in fact. When his optics finally onlined, he realized why.

Shrapnel’s offline frame was still on top of him. His faceplates were slack and relaxed, his helm resting against Starscream’s shoulder.

Normally in this kind of situation, he’d simply prod whoever was on top of him. Or pinch a sensitive wire. Maybe ram his heel thruster into a leg strut. Starscream usually hated recharging on his back like this, wings trapped under him and himself trapped under a partner.

There was nothing usual about this situation, though.

The Insecticon wasn’t beautiful, not in the true sense of the world. But seeing him like this, his guard down and all tension gone, Starscream realized that he was captivating. He couldn’t quite look away.

Starscream didn’t need to move yet. Not really. Not when Shrapnel looked so open and vulnerable, face almost close enough to nuzzle.

It didn’t take long for his tanks to ping him with a low fuel warning, though. That was annoying. But with all the activity he’d gotten up to the night before, it was no wonder.

Starscream couldn’t remember the last time he’d been knocked offline by interfacing. He’d certainly never been knocked into full recharge.

“Shrapnel,” he murmured. “Wake up.”

The Insecticon twitched and hummed. He burrowed into Starscream’s neck and shivered, a full-body tremble that vibrated into Starscream’s struts pleasantly.

And made it suddenly apparent that Shrapnel’s spike was still buried in Starscream’s valve.

That had never happened before either.

Experimentally, Starscream clenched his valve calipers, rippling them along the Insecticon’s length. His valve didn’t really need a lot of help to get going – with that spike in there, he’d been low-level lubricating all night.

Shrapnel grunted, fingers curling into the gaps in Starscream’s plating.

Well, that wasn’t enough reaction by far. So Starscream worked his valve again, making as if to pull the Insecticon’s spike deeper. It pressurized in response.

“Shrapnel,” he sang. “Wake, lover mine.”

Shrapnel didn’t online. At least, he didn’t online his optics, or lift his helm.

But his frame activated.

The thrusts weren’t hard, intense, or anything like what Starscream had gotten from Shrapnel the night before. Instead they were shallow and gentle, barely causing friction, more teasing than actual fragging. Still, Starscream began to tremble, a full-frame shiver working down his backstruts, and he lifted his legs to place them around the Insecticon’s hips.

Shrapnel rumbled into his neck cabling.

Starscream gasped as their movement intensified. Still not hard – anything but – yet fulfilling even so. Shrapnel’s spike touched on his nodes delightfully, his weight had the Seeker pinned, and now he mouthed at Starscream’s neck cabling, and why had he ever wanted it hard and fast in the first place? This was so much better.

“Good morning, my Star, Star,” Shrapnel hummed. “This is an unexpected pleasure, pleasure.”

“I’d say the same,” Starscream replied. “I’ve never spent an entire recharge cycle with someone’s spike in me before.”

“I’m the first to enjoy this privilege, privilege?” Shrapnel changed his angle slightly, continuing the lazy thrusts.

“You’re my first for a lot of things,” Starscream replied. He turned his head to nuzzle the Insecticon’s audial, and caught a glimpse of Shrapnel’s face.

The other mech was smiling. It was a happy expression, quite different from anything Starscream was used to seeing on anyone near himself. It was almost unnerving, but not quite, and when Shrapnel opened his mouth and nipped at Starscream’s helm vent he soon decided that a little happiness wasn’t a problem.

“So does that mean that I can entice you back, back?” Shrapnel asked, his mouth moving across Starscream’s jaw and down his neck again.

Starscream could get used to this. But…

“That depends,” he replied, finally succumbing to the desire to touch those antennae again.

“On, on?”

“On what it’s going to take to get these eggs out of me,” Starscream admitted.

He knew, intellectually, that he’d promised a second clutch. He also knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would kill every Insecticon and run instead of holding up his part of the deal if what was left of this process was more painful than he was prepared to handle twice.

“Ah.” Shrapnel’s mouth suddenly met his, teasingly, hungrily. “These eggs, eggs…” Purple fingers trailed down Starscream’s sides until they reached his hips. Starscream gasped as Shrapnel suddenly lifted him up and tilted him forward until he was seated in the Insecticon’s lap, his valve still pleasantly full.

The Insecticon was proving to be one of the better frags Starscream had ever had, and he had nearly as much stamina as Starscream himself. The implications were… intriguing.

“These eggs, eggs,” Shrapnel continued, holding Starscream tight and thrusting a bit harder, “won’t grow much, much. They will only get marginally larger, and yes, you will have to work to get them out, out.” He leaned in to ex-vent across Starscream’s central seam, and the seeker shivered. “I’m told it’s very pleasurable, pleasurable. Multiple overloads are involved, involved.”

Starscream moaned.

“The hatchlings inside do all the growing, growing,” the Insecticon said against Starscream’s mouth. “From tiny little beings to strong, viable creatures, inside the strongest and most beautiful host I’ve ever had, had.”

“Bet you say that to all your partners.” Starscream arched against Shrapnel as the other’s spike touched on his ceiling node, charge leaping lazily between their plating.

“You’re gorgeous, gorgeous,” Shrapnel crooned. “So strong, so smart, so radiant, I could praise you forever, Starscream, Starscream –“ He broke off as Starscream rippled his calipers along his length.

“You could put that glossa to better use, you know,” Starscream gasped, tilting his head aside to entice Shrapnel to give his throat some attention.

Shrapnel obeyed with a growl, denta biting down on Starscream’s main energon line, glossa instantly soothing the hurt. The pain and pleasure bled together in Starscream’s mind until they were the same, and his world narrowed to the Insecticon beneath him, the silver antennae sparking in his hands.

When overload hit him, it was a rolling, lazy thing, setting his struts to shivering. He held on to the Insecticon hard enough to leave dents. Shrapnel trembled beneath him, and Starscream felt the hot wash of charged fluids over his internal nodes. The gestation chamber opening had spiraled shut again, leaving the fluids with nowhere to go, so when the Insecticon pulled out the nest beneath them was soiled with mixed fluids.

Starscream looked down at the mess. “We’re dirty,” he pointed out, grinning at Shrapnel. “That means you get to wash me again.”

Shrapnel chuckled. “The washracks, my Star, Star. I’ll pamper you until you’re glowing, glowing.”

Starscream barely suppressed an undignified squeak as Shrapnel placed a hand under his aft and lifted him, standing up with the seeker cradled against his chest.

Well, that was interesting. He’d never suspected Shrapnel was that strong.

 “The eggs will change your center of gravity, gravity,” Shrapnel murmured as he carried Starscream over to the washracks. “You need to find your balance again before you can leave, leave.”

“Will they mess with my flying?” Starscream asked, frowning. He wasn’t sure he liked that part of the deal.

“Probably, probably,” Shrapnel nodded. “It might be best to stay on the ground until the eggs are laid, laid. Now, down you get, get.” He slid his hand along Starscream’s leg from thigh to thruster, dipping into transformation seams on the way, and slowly let his leg down before repeating the process on the other legs.

“If you want me steady on my pedes, you’d better stop teasing me like that,” Starscream accused, already more revved up than he appreciated.

Shrapnel didn’t remove his hands from Starscream’s waist. “You’re too tempting to not touch, Starscream, Starscream.”

The seeker preened a bit, turning. And promptly overbalanced. “Slag! I’m heavy!”

“I told you so, so,” Shrapnel said smugly and turned the solvent on. He stepped up against Starscream’s back and hummed into his neck cables. “How do you feel, feel?”

“Full,” Starscream admitted. “Hot, like there’s a heavy core of warmth in me that I can’t cool. Heavy and ungainly, as I said.” He stretched his arms over his head, taking a step away from the support of the Insecticon. “Does it show?”

Shrapnel stared at him – ogled him, really – and shook his head. “No, no. You look perfect, perfect. Although, although,” he reached out and traced a long dark streak on Starscream’s thigh, “we need to do something about these transfers, transfers.”

“That’s your job,” Starscream smirked. “You promised me pampering.”

“With pleasure, pleasure.” Shrapnel pulled Starscream close again.

At this rate he would never get to his shift on time.

“You are welcome to come back here tonight, tonight,” Shrapnel murmured, running a solvent-soaked rag down Starscream’s left wing.

“It’s tempting,” Starscream admitted. “But I can’t. I share quarters with my trine, they’ll be suspicious.”

Shrapnel hummed in understanding. “Will you tell them about this, this?”

Starscream hesitated. “I hadn’t planned to.”

Shrapnel’s touch on his plating slowed. “Because it is shameful, shameful.”

“No, that’s not it,” Starscream protested, although it had been. Somehow that had changed in the last day or so. “I just – they wouldn’t understand.”

“It’s all right, my Star, Star,” Shrapnel said softly. He turned the seeker around in his arms until they faced each other and Shrapnel could nuzzle at his helm vents. Starscream tilted his helm into the touch. “I know what they say, say. I’m hoping it won’t sway you, you.”

“I’ll try to come back in a couple of days,” Starscream decided. “I can’t come back every night, or they’ll start complaining and being nosy.”

“Good, good,” Shrapnel said, mouth moving in gentle nips down Starscream’s throat. “And you’ll come back to lay, won’t you, you?”

“Yes,” Starscream gasped, pressing against the Insecticon’s front. “I’ve rigged the duty rosters.”

Shrapnel chuckled. “So clever, clever. How much time to we have before you need to leave, leave?”

“Enough,” Starscream replied throatily. “We have enough.”

 

Starscream was hyperaware of the warm weight in his middle. Not just because he needed to compensate for it whenever he moved, which made for a strange first couple of hours until he got used to it. Not just because his plating felt tight and almost uncomfortable.

More because the solid heat was a constant reminder of what it had taken to put it there.

He’d stayed away from Shrapnel for two nights, then made some pretend excuse to Skywarp and Thundercracker. They’d both been looking at him weirdly, and he knew he wasn’t fooling them completely, but hopefully they weren’t anywhere close to suspecting the truth. Because who would? The idea that Starscream, _Starscream_ , would lower himself to willingly carry an Insecticon’s spawn was ludicrous.

Strange how it didn’t feel like much of a sacrifice anymore. Then again, he hadn’t laid them yet.

 He’d spent one more night with Shrapnel, and the interfacing was amazing, to say the least. Starscream was pleasantly sore after and had even more difficulty walking straight than usual.

His trine had given him Looks when he reappeared. They knew he was fragging someone, but Shrapnel wasn’t even on their radar.

Apparently, the current bets were Megatron. Or Motormaster. Or Onslaught. Or Astrotrain, or maybe Blitzwing. Someone much bigger than him, certainly.

They didn’t have a clue.

He leaned back in their private wash rack, enjoying the hot solvent’s path through his seams and down his protoform. It wouldn’t take long before the heat ran out, but for now, his semi-functional heating system was still doing the job.

Blue fingers traced a transformation seam lightly, marveling at the tiny dents still found on the edges of the plating. Shrapnel had been particularly insistent.

And oh, it felt good.

Mimicking the Insecticon’s touch, Starscream’s claws hooked into his own transformation seams to tease sensitive wiring and protoform beneath. Down his side, across his hip, down his pelvis and _there_ \- !

His temperature skyrocketed, fans turning on full blast, his plating flaring, and his panels moving aside with a snikt to admit insistent digits. Starscream gasped, eagerly imagining Shrapnel’s fingers and long glossa, his frame trying in vain to cool down.

If he timed this right…!

Just a little bit more - !

Starscream overloaded with a shout just as the cold solvent hit him.

“Well, that’s a nice show, Star. Who’s it for?”

He blinked at the grinning purple seeker in front of him, then grinned right back. Starscream could give as good as he got. “Well, I was alone when I started, so it wasn’t really for anyone but me.” He turned his back to the other seeker. “Do my wings?”

“If you do mine in return,” Skywarp said, stepping closer. “Scrap, you used up all the hot solvent again, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did,” Starscream replied. “That’s what you get for being late.”

“I was stuck on shift with slagging Soundwave,” his trinemate grumbled. “It’s impossible to sneak off early then.”

Starscream made a sympathetic noise and pushed his wings into Skywarp’s skilled touch. “Thundercracker on shift?”

“Yeah,” Skywarp replied. “He took over for me. So I’m glad you’re here.” His hands ran down Starscream’s wing edges a final time. “There. My turn?”

Starscream turned around, flicking his wings to get the last bit of solvent off. “Sure. Give me your back.”

Skywarp turned around. “Great. I think I have grit stuck in my seams from last week.”

“Maybe you should take better care of yourself,” Starscream admonished, picking at said grit with a sneer. “And stop warping into sandstorms.”

Skywarp giggle. “You sound like TC.”

Starscream grabbed a brush. “Well, he is the sensible one of us.”

A few moments passed in companionable silence. Starscream picked his way through every one of Skywarp’s nitty gritty corners and angles, removing sand and tiny pebbles from underneath his trinemate’s plating.

“Hey, Star…” Skywarp said tentatively.

“Hmm?” Starscream hummed, digging at a particularly stubborn piece of Earth crust stuck in his trinemate’s aileron.

“You… You’re okay, right? You’re not planning anything that’s going to get you slagged, are you? I mean,” he continued hurriedly, as Starscream’s hands stilled on his plating. “You’ve been distant lately. Something’s going on and we want to know what it is, what you’re doing. We’re worried for you.” The words came out in a rush, and Starscream laughed.

“Now _you_ sound like TC. He put you up to this, didn’t he?”

Skywarp laughed. “Am I that transparent?”

“No, you’re merely not that observant. But he is,” Starscream pointed out. “But don’t worry for me. I’m not in any danger of being slagged. Well,” he amended, considering the statement, “no more than usual.”

“Then what are you doing?” Skywarp said, twisting slightly until he could look at Starscream. “Because something’s obviously going on.”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Starscream repeated. “I’m working on a new project, but I’d like to see how it pans out before I tell you about it.” He looked away from Skywarp’s gleaming optics, hiding under the pretense of digging at the organic material again. It seemed his trinemates – well, Thundercracker anyway – were too perceptive for him to keep what he was doing secret for long.

He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to anymore. Remembering why he’d wanted to in the first place was harder and harder every time he saw Shrapnel.

“Will you tell us when you can?” Skywarp asked, wings twitching when Starscream found a ticklish spot.

Starscream hesitated, long enough for Skywarp to turn and look at him again. “Star?”

“I will,” he sighed. “I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

Slag.

 

Starscream arched into Shrapnel’s touch, keening as the Insecticon mouthed at his throat, valve tightening around the other’s overloading spike. His lover eased him through his overload, cradling him close to his own frame and then lowering him gently into the nest, spent and sated.

“I must admit, I enjoy having such a beautiful creature in my nest, nest,” Shrapnel said, curling up and spooning around his puddle of purring seeker. “Are you content, my Star, Star?”

“I don’t think I’ve been this content since we woke up on this miserable planet,” Starscream replied. “Which is strange. I wasn’t really expecting to be.” He sighed, snuggling closer. “My trinemates suspect something.”

“Will you tell them, them?”

“I don’t know,” Starscream admitted. “I figured I’d make the decision when these eggs are out of me. Then it’s over and done with and they can’t object.”

Shrapnel lowered a hand to caress Starscream’s middle. “You’re taking very good care of them, them.”

Starscream hummed. “How much longer, do you think? It’s been forever.” 

“It’s been six days, days.” Shrapnel shifted until his helm pressed against Starscream’s abdominal plating. “Tomorrow, tomorrow,” he said softly. “I think they’re coming tomorrow, my Star, Star. You need to come here early, early.”

The seeker nodded. “I’ll have to mess with the shift plan again, but I can manage. I’ll be here.”

“Good, good.” Shrapnel nuzzled against the seam in Starscream’s hip. “I’ll have the energon and hot solvent prepared, prepared.”

“Will you spoil me first?” Starscream said, trying his best not to let his apprehension show.

“Thoroughly, thoroughly,” Shrapnel confirmed, deliciously long glossa following Starscream’s seam from hip to side to chest plate. “Until they’re laid and after, after.”

Starscream tried to find some comfort in that. But it wasn’t enough.

“Can I stay here tonight?”

Shrapnel lifted his head to look at him. “Normally, I’d keep you happily, happily. But you’ll most likely be here for the next two days, days. It would be more fair for your trine to have you tonight, tonight. That will also give me more time to ready everything in here, here.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Starscream sighed. “Help me up then. Your brood has made me heavy.”

He didn’t really require the assistance. Shrapnel knew that as well. But it was too nice to be pampered like this, Starscream didn’t want to give it up.

Therein, he suspected, lay some of the problem.

It was something to think of for another night. For this one, he’d try his best to appease his worried trinemates and get some much-needed recharge.

 

“Starscream,” Skywarp whined, drawing out his name until it had at least five syllables. “Why are you still reading?”

“Because I haven’t finished yet,” Starscream replied, shooting him a look. “And I’d finish faster if you’d stop bothering me.”

Thundercracker snorted. “Leave him be, Sky. You know how he is.”

“Oh, mute it. You know, you could help me convince him instead of just lying there,” Skywarp shot back. “There was a reason we had this berth expanded, you know, and it wasn’t so you could just lie there.”

Sometimes, Skywarp was even more absurd than usual. Starscream dialed down his audials and tried his best to ignore them.

That proved a lot harder than expected when clever fingers began caressing his wings. It wasn’t that long since they’d been touched, but Shrapnel didn’t have the skilled, familiar touch his trine did. And when Skywarp’s fingers wanted something, they usually managed to get it.

Starscream leaned back into the touch with an appreciative groan.

“See?” Skywarp purred. “See how good I can make it?”

“I know you’re good, Warp,” Starscream agreed. “You’ve got the best wing touch I know of.”

“Then come to berth,” Skywarp repeated, tugging Starscream backward until he was flat on the soft surface. Skywarp moved around him until he straddled Starscream’s thighs, leaning forward to kiss Starscream’s cockpit. “I haven’t tasted you in forever.” His dark fingers delved into Starscream’s wing hinges, and Starscream gasped.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to indulge his trine tonight.

He couldn’t let Skywarp at his valve, though. He probably still tasted of Shrapnel. Luckily, Skywarp was nothing if not versatile. So when Starscream let his spike cover spiral open, Skywarp squealed happily and scooted backward .

“You know,” Thundercracker said, leaning over until his mouth was near Starscream’s audial, “you do spoil him.”

“I’m aware,” Starscream replied, already half lost in the sensations Skywarp inflicted on his partially extended spike. “But he’s so good at that. So I’m not sure who’s spoiling who, really.”

“Hmm,” Thundercracker agreed. He leaned down until his hot ex-vent teased Starscream’s dermal plating. “Will you indulge me too, if I ask?”

“That depends,” Starscream gasped, interrupted by his spike being suddenly enfolded in hot, wet suction, “on what you want.”

Thundercracker smiled against Starscream’s lips. “You know what I want.”

Yes, Starscream did. He let his hand trace the other’s cockpit teasingly. “Open, then.”

Thundercracker shifted, and his cockpit clicked aside to give Starscream access.

“So pretty,” he breathed, his fingers tracing the edge of Thundercracker’s spark casing. The navy seeker gasped, arching his back, wings fluttering enticingly.

“You’re one to talk,” Skywarp said, and Starscream looked down just in time to see his own spike vanish into that worshiping mouth. He grunted, making himself lie still, fingers taking out the need to move on Thundercracker’s inner core.

“So good,” TC panted. “Oh, Star, so good.” He leaned sideways until he was reclined against the pillows, spark at Starscream’s leisure.

Skywarp pulled off, and the cool air hitting his spike made Starscream gasp. His valve calipers fluttered on nothing. “I missed you.” The purple seeker smirked, straightening and scooting forward again. “I missed your spike, too.”

He lifted himself up until he hovered over Starscream’s erect form, and lowered himself easily, taking the whole length in one go.

“You’ve been stretching yourself,” Starscream accused, more than a little breathless. “Or did you practice on somebot else?” Beside him, Thundercracker was a strutless pile of seeker, moaning at every move Starscream’s fingers made.

“Of course,” Skywarp replied. “Wanted you like this, all at once. Turns out, taking bigger spikes does the trick.” He rotated his hips again, drawing gasps and heated moans from his trine leader. “TC’s been waiting for you, though. He doesn’t trust anyone else with his spark.”

“As well he shouldn’t,” Starscream agreed, watching as his fingers drew out little filaments of corona from Thundercracker’s spark. The blue seeker was reduced to babbling incessantly by now, wings twitching, and Starscream could tell that his overload was not far off.

So he leaned over and licked Thundercracker’s spark casing, dragging his glossa in one long, slow movement from the base of it to the top.

Thundercracker keened, stiffening, charge visible in every seam of his plating, and then slumped back strutless.

“Good,” Skywarp grinned, leaning down and nipping at Starscream’s helm vent. “Now, you’re mine.”

That wasn’t a bad fate. Because Skywarp’s valve was just as talented as his fingers, and Starscream groaned as it rippled around his length, almost pulling at him. He caught his trinemate’s mouth, lifted his hands to tug him closer until they were flush together. Thundercracker revived enough to stroke both of them lazily, small, gentle caresses to wings and cheeks.

“My Winglord,” Skywarp groaned, curling his fingers until his claws left tiny pinpricks of pain in Starscream’s wing plating. “You’re so slagging gorgeous, Star.”

“You both are,” Thundercracker murmured. “Especially together.”

“Of course we are.” Starscream placed his hands on Skywarp’s thighs. “Ready, my sweet?”

“I’m always ready.” Skywarp ground against him.

“Then ride me,” Starscream breathed. “Hard. And fast.”

The expression on his trinemate’s face was enough to kick Starscream’s cooling fans up to maximum.

Thundercracker leaned over, stole a kiss of his own. “Let me have your spark.”

Oooooooh yes. Starscream let his cockpit slide aside and his chestplates click open. “It’s yours.”

Between Skywarp’s clever valve and Thundercracker’s caressing fingers, Starscream was soon lost. The dual sensation was enough to turn him into a quivering puddle, and in some distant part of his mind he knew he’d be owing Skywarp an overload after this, because there was no way he would last.

So when Skywarp ground down on him hard enough to leave paint transfers, clenching and unclenching around him, the tight band around Starscream’s hips burst and with a shout, he flooded Skywarp’s valve.

Skywarp whined, and Thundercracker chuckled. He’d apparently recovered from his overload, which was good, because Starscream simply couldn’t move. He felt strutless, molten, even heavier than he had the last couple of days, and would easily lay there quite content until he had to go meet Shrapnel.

The haze of overload lifted a bit at the thought. He was suddenly acutely aware of the hot, heavy weight in his middle.

“Don’t worry, Warp.” Thundercracker sat up and leaned across Starscream’s prone frame. “I’ll take care of you. Come here.”

He pulled their trinemate off Starscream’s spike, twisting with him until Skywarp was prone on his back next to Starscream. Thundercracker dove down between the dark thighs, mouth enveloping the other’s anterior node, and Skywarp keened.

It eased Starscream’s worry somewhat. They were worth it.

As Skywarp arched into his own overload, Starscream moved to his side and pulled Thundercracker down to lie across them. Skywarp tilted his head against Starscream’s, his optics offline and a content smile on his face.

“I’ve missed you two, too,” Starscream admitted. He nuzzled the top of Skywarp’s helm.

“You will be careful, right?” Thundercracker said, looking at him intently. “With whatever you’re doing. You’ll be careful.”

“I am,” Starscream replied, sighing. “I promise. This is something that needs to be done. It’s for all our sakes.”

“You don’t get to put yourself at risk for us, Star.” Thundercracker frowned, his hand moving to find Starscream’s.

“Of course I do,” Starscream shot back, more snappishly than he’d intended. “I’m your trine leader. And your Winglord.”

Thundercracker sighed then, clearly not willing to start a fight over it. Starscream was grateful. It was too nice a moment to ruin with harsh words.

“Come here,” he murmured, patting the berth. “Come lie beside me. I want to be between you two tonight.”

Skywarp made a happy little noise and burrowed closer. “When do you have to leave tomorrow?”

“Early,” Starscream murmured, turning his head to nuzzle at the now lying down Thundercracker. “I have to monitor something in the lab. I’ll be busy with it for a few days.”

“Then you’d best get some recharge,” Thundercracker mumbled, already half gone himself. “Good night, Star.”

“Good night, you two,” Starscream whispered, snuggling down between them.

Yes, they were definitely worth it.

 

When Starscream woke to his internal alarm, it was with a deep, throbbing ache in his hips and back struts. He suppressed a groan as he sat up, freeing himself from Skywarp’s arms and Thundercracker’s legs, and slid to the floor carefully.

He felt heavy, and hot, and uncomfortable, and was quite ready to give Shrapnel a piece of his mind when he saw him next.

He winced as he turned, walking carefully and leaning against the wall. Hopefully the halls would be empty.

“Star?” Skywarp said sleepily. “Are you leaving?”

“Hush, my sweet,” Starscream whispered, satisfied that he managed to keep the tension he felt out of his voice. “I have to go to the lab. Go back to recharge.”

“You sure? I can get up and get energon with you?”

Starscream dimmed his optics briefly and braced himself, then walked back to the berth and leaned down to kiss Skywarp’s cheek. “I’m sure. Recharge, ‘Warp. I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Don’t like that you have to stay in the lab for two days,” Skywarp grumbled, but he moved closer to Thundercracker and snuggled in under his arm.

Grateful for the escape, Starscream turned and made his way out of their quarters.

He wasn’t fast, that was for sure, and he knew he was anything but graceful, but at least he was heading in the right direction. The tightness and dull pain in his struts came and went, tightened and released, and his core temperature climbed steadily as he moved. When he finally got to Shrapnel’s door, keyed to his own signature now as well, he was disgruntled and more than a little uncomfortable.

“You better be ready to spoil me rotten,” he announced archly as he walked inside. “Because I already feel like slag.”

Shrapnel lifted his head, dim visor focused on him. “Star, Star? You’re earlier than I expected, expected.” He stood and climbed out of the nest. “Come, come. Make yourself comfortable, comfortable.”

Starscream dropped into the nest. He felt better as soon as the familiar scent surrounded him, but of course it didn’t last.

“How – long?” he grunted, clenching his jaw against the pain.

“I’m not certain, certain,” Shrapnel replied, handing him an energon cube. “It shouldn’t take too long once it starts proper, but you haven’t done this before, before. It might take longer.”

“Perfect,” Starscream groaned, collapsing into the soft meshes of the pillow. “I ache _everywhere_.”

“My poor Star, Star,” Shrapnel crooned. “Let me help, help.”

“This is your fault, you know,” Starscream grumbled. “So as I see it, you’re obligated at this point to help.” He scooted downward heavily, and laid his head back against the nest edge. “Make me feel as good as possible.”

“My pleasure, pleasure.”

And oh, there was that glossa again. _In_ his seams. Snaking up across his pelvis, teasing over protoform and cabling, dragging Starscream’s charge up with it.

“That’s it,” Starscream moaned, shifting his legs to ease the Insecticon’s access. “Oh, Primus, that’s it.”

Shrapnel’s hands were on him next, massaging their way from his hands up to his shoulders, dancing across vents and plating until they found the leading edges of his wings. The touch was enough to have Starscream arching his back, pressing up against the insistent glossa still worshipping his seams.

It felt divine.

He barely noticed the twinging pain in his lower back.

He did notice when his own cover slid aside, releasing a veritable flood of lubricant. The fluid ran down his aft, dripping down to the base of the nest, forming a puddle. It was more than he could  remember seeing at once, and still there was more coming.

“Shrapnel?” he said, alarmed. It was not a squeak, really not, though he’d be willing to admit that it was damn close.

“Hush, my Star, Star,” the Insecticon hummed. “This is normal, normal. Lubrication eases the way for the eggs, eggs. The conductivity of the fluid stabilizes them after laying, laying.”

“Oh good,” Starscream said faintly. “So I’ll just keep flooding the nest then, shall I?”

Shrapnel, curse him, just chuckled. Starscream was about to call him out on it, but then that glossa – and at this point, he realized he worshipped that glossa – trailed down his front, across his spike cover, and circled his anterior node. Shrapnel gave the node a few gentle sucks, then lifted his head to look straight at Starscream’s face.

“Fragging releases the plug, plug,” he said simply, as if Starscream should understand what that meant. “That’ll take less time than waiting for it to dissolve on its own, own.”

“Okay,” Starscream agreed. “Fragging’s good.”

The Insecticon chuckled again, and Starscream debated kicking him in the face. It would serve him right for laughing at him.

But it was hard to kick a face that was buried against one’s own valve. Especially when that glossa, as long and active as Starscream had imagined – and, yes, fantasized about – entered his valve, stroking across nodes deeper than any other glossa had gone before.

Starscream moaned, long and low, and Shrapnel’s hands tightened on his hips.

Between them, his lubricant flowed steadily, dripping into the nest.

That glossa was a marvel, but it wasn’t long before it was not enough.

“More,” Starscream gasped. “I need more, please, just – I need your spike, Shrapnel, please!”

The Insecticon lifted his head, a rare, savage smile on his lubricant-covered face. “Your wish is my command, command.”

His larger frame moved up beneath Starscream’s legs, covering him completely until the heat of the Insecticon’s plating was everywhere. The sharp snikt of Shrapnel’s spike cover moving aside  almost drowned in the sound of their fans.

There was no mistaking the feel of that long, slender spike entering his valve, though. As Shrapnel lowered his head to nibble at Starscream’s neck cables, the seeker tilted his head back and keened.

He’d thought it was intense before. That was _nothing_ compared to this. He could feel every movement Shrapnel made, every slow, smooth glide across already oversensitized nodes. His awareness shrunk until the Insecticon was all his sensors registered – the heavy weight on top of him, the heated ex-vents across his neck cables, the hand stroking across his wing, the gentle thrusts.

Everything felt knife-sharp, an edge of pleasure, a narrow point that Starscream was teetering precariously on top of.

When Shrapnel overloaded, shooting heated, charged transfluid deep into Starscream’s valve, the seeker arched his head back and _screamed_.

His valve constricted around the Insecticon’s spike as he overloaded, falling off that knife’s edge and drowning in pleasure.

Then an unexpected voice had his lines run cold as ice.

“Starscream!? What the – get the frag off him, slagger!”

Shrapnel pulled out fast, much faster than Starscream’s still tight calipers appreciated, and Starscream onlined his optics – when had he offlined them? – to see his lover held by the throat, face to face with a furious Skywarp. The purple seeker had his weapon aimed squarely at Shrapnel’s spark.

“’Warp?” he said weakly, his body still more than a little lethargic. “What are – what are you doing?”

“I’m going to dismantle this piece of Primus-forsaken slag, plating by bit of rusty plating,” his trinemate snarled. “How badly did he hurt you, Star?”

“Hurt – no, Skywarp, let him go!” Starscream sat up, suddenly angry. With himself as much as with Skywarp – the mech was here, and that meant he hadn’t been careful enough. “Shrapnel hasn’t hurt me at all. It’s _fragging_ , you idiot. I know you’ve seen that before.”

Skywarp stared at him in shock. “But – that – you’re fragging him!? This one?”

Starscream nodded sharply. “Let him go.”

“But – but you were screaming!”

Starscream groaned and forced down an impulse to facepalm. He didn’t dare take his optics off Skywarp, not now. His trinemate’s grip wasn’t loosening. “Yes. You’ve heard that before, too. Star _scream_ , remember?”

Skywarp frowned, still looking confused. At last his grip loosened slightly. “But – but why? I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain later,” Starscream sighed. “Now, if you don’t mind, we were kind of in the middle of something.”

Skywarp looked from Starscream to Shrapnel and back. Then he shook his head decisively. “No.”

“No?” Starscream repeated, incredulous.

“No,” Skywarp confirmed. “I want the whole story, Star. I may be slow, but I’m not that stupid.”

Whatever Starscream could say in response to that was cut off by the door opening, admitting a furious Kickback. A Kickback who was already armed and aiming everything he had at the intruding seeker.

“You will let my leader go,” he snarled. “Or your life is forfeit.”

“Let’s see who shoots first,” Skywarp growled back. “I have more faith in my aim than yours, Insecticon.”

“Oh, for Primus’ sake!” Starscream shouted, exasperated. “Will you all stop acting like idiots for a few moments? Skywarp, let Shrapnel go! Or I’ll have to shoot you myself!” He couldn’t let Skywarp jeopardize everything, not now. The sound of his nullrays powering up was deafening in the shocked silence.

“Starscream?” Skywarp said, sounding betrayed. “What are you doing?”

“You three need to take a step away from each other,” Starscream said levelly. “Put your weapons away. You won’t need them in here.”

To his credit, Skywarp was the first to lower his weapon. He still looked confused as pit, but he let go of Shrapnel. Starscream turned his weapons on Kickback. “You, too.”

“Kickback, stand down, down,” Shrapnel said, rubbing his throat.

“That’s better,” Starscream praised as the Insecticon lowered his own weapons. He used the tone he’d needed to use back on Cybertron before he’d bonded to his trine, back when they’d both been acting like idiots more often than not. By Skywarp’s chastised grin, he recognized it.

“I still want an explanation,” he said. “You owe us that much, Star.”

“Fine,” Starscream sighed. “Megatron’s up to something – he’s planning a full cleanup in the ranks, to dig out whoever it was that leaked the information about the planned outpost on Mars to the Autobots. He’s sending Soundwave to Cybertron to interrogate Shockwave and his troops first, in so-called secret, and then he’ll handle the ones here. This is part of a deal where the Insecticons won’t turn against us in the whole thing, so that when Megatron uses them against his own troops the seekers won’t be harmed.”

“That’s an extremely simplified explanation, explanation,” Shrapnel added. “Megatron has already set in motion his plans here, here. Soundwave will be interrogating myself and Kickback in two days, and Bombshell after that, that.”

“You know that?” Starscream stared at him in surprise. “How do you know that?”

“Part of the orders to Cybertron,” Kickback replied. “Shockwave’s been ordered to supply special connector cables that can work on our systems.” He grinned wickedly. “Soundwave’s not compatible to us.”

“The next planned opening of the space bridge is tomorrow evening, evening,” Shrapnel continued. “And Soundwave will need some time to configure the connectors, connectors.”

“Bombshell will be back the night after that from his mission,” Kickback said, nodding. “They can’t call him back before then or he’ll be suspicious.”

“You know all this and you’re still calm?” Starscream said, looking from one Insecticon to the other.

“The cables won’t help.” Kickback explained. “We’re safe. When I said that slagger isn’t compatible to us, I meant that he’s really not compatible to us.”

“That’s all fine and good, but none of that explains why Starscream’s here, being fragged!” Skywarp whined. “Why is Starscream here, being fragged?”

“Because – ah!” Starscream winced as something loosened inside him. A fresh flow of lubricant brought with it darkened, solid pieces of something, dropping into the puddle with small plunks. “Shrapnel – was that…?”

“The plug, plug,” Shrapnel confirmed. “It won’t be long now, now.” He knelt between Starscream’s legs again, far enough back to leave some room between their frames. Skywarp moved to stand next to them.

“Plug?” the purple seeker exclaimed. “What plug? What won’t be long?”

“Kickback, will you explain?” Starscream grunted, gnashing his denta against the pain. _Something_ was moving inside him, making him groan. “Shrapnel, it hurts.”

Ignoring their company, Shrapnel bent down and inserted his glossa into Starscream’s valve again. Skywarp sputtered next to them. Starscream half saw Kickback stand behind the purple seeker, murmuring into his audial.

“Bear down, down,” Shrapnel said, lifting his head again. “The plug is gone, and your chamber opening is dilated, dilated. They’re coming, coming.”

Starscream moaned as the pain struck him again. Inside, he could feel something large pushing against the ring of the chamber opening. He curled forwards, bearing down, keening louder as the opening was stretched.

“So good, good,” Shrapnel murmured. “Keep it up, Star, Star.”

The egg, because of course it was one of the eggs, finally slipped free of the chamber. It put direct pressure on his ceiling node, and Starscream panted with the pleasure/pain of it, leaning his head back in an attempt to get more air into his heated systems. His calipers cycled constantly, pushing the egg oh so slowly downward. Every single node in his valve fired up around it.

“WHAT!” Skywarp shouted. “YOU’RE CARRYING HIS SPAWN?”

Starscream couldn’t answer, he was back on that knife’s edge. The egg stretched him wide, sliding slowly, driving up his charge. His spike cover slid aside, the white spike pressuring instantly, already leaking.

“You’re amazing, amazing,” Shrapnel murmured, his hands gently rubbing Starscream’s valve lips, stretching and relaxing them. “So amazing, Star, Star.”

Starscream keened, bearing down. It wasn’t possible to resist, even had he wanted to. His spike overloaded, untouched.

“Oh, Primus,” Skywarp breathed, and now he sounded in awe. “That’s – you’re so hot, Star. You’re gorgeous like this.”

“Touch him, him,” Shrapnel said. “Touch his wings, wings.”

Just as the egg touched on the last calipers of his valve, stretching the opening wider than Starscream had ever been stretched before, he felt Skywarp’s clever touch on his hinges. He managed to tilt his pelvis slightly, knowing his trinemate would appreciate the view.

“So slagging gorgeous,” Skywarp moaned. “Slag, Star, you should see this, you’re so amazing. You’re stretched so far, and it’s so beautiful, I bet I could fit my whole hand in there, and it’s just coming and coming, can you feel it?”

Starscream could feel it, could feel the egg slipping free by increments, still sliding gently. Just as he thought he couldn’t stretch any further without tearing, the egg slipped free and dropped into the puddle of lubricant. Starscream overloaded with a shout, pushing back into Skywarp’s arms.

“So hot,” Skywarp mumbled against his helm, pressing kisses to the dark plating. “Look, Star. Look what you did.”

Starscream onlined his optics, looking down at what had come out of him. “That’s… smaller than it felt,” he said shakily.

“You’ve been so good, good,” Shrapnel cooed, leaning down to turn the egg slightly. The orb was a pale blue, almost luminescent, speckled with white and grey. Starscream lifted a trembling hand, leaning down to touch it.

It was warm under his hand.

An energon cube was thrust under his nose. “You need this,” Kickback said. “You need to keep your energy levels up for the next four.”

“There’s four more!?” Skywarp exclaimed. “I’m getting TC!”

“No, ‘Warp, wait,” Starscream began, but it was too late. The teleporter was gone.

“Slag,” the seeker sighed. “So much for keeping it from my trine.”

“It will be well, well,” Shrapnel said calmly. “Though I do wonder how he found us, us.”

“He bribed Rumble away from the monitors, and followed your progress on the cameras,” Kickback replied. “Then he popped into each room until he found you.” He shrugged at the looks they gave him. “I saw him appear in three rooms after each other, calling your name. The rest, he told me.” He looked down on the blue egg softly. “Can’t really blame you for being too occupied to hear him explain it.”

Starscream nodded, then winced. “I think the next one’s coming.”

“Then bear down again, again,” Shrapnel said, renewing the massage of his valve lips. “It should be easier this time, since the first one’s stretched you already, already.”

“Are they all the same size?” Starscream grunted, leaning forward again. Inside him, the egg slowly, slowly pushed its way past the ring of his chamber.

“Should be,” Kickback replied . The other Insecticon had moved closer to the nest, tall wings vibrating gently. “It’s gorgeous, Star. Shrapnel did well when he chose you. You can do this.”

Well, that was certainly a different attitude than he’d received from Kickback in the beginning. At least bearing the next generation of Insecticons was worthy of respect in the mech’s optics, if none of his other achievements were.

Starscream didn’t care either way. Shrapnel was enough for him. “Of course I can,” Starscream snapped at him. “I can do anything.” He moaned as the second egg pressed against his ceiling node.

“Yes, you can, can,” Shrapnel agreed. “You’re so strong, so brave, such a perfect host, host.”

He leaned down again, taking Starscream’s spike into his mouth. It had hardened again in response to the delectable treatment his valve was receiving, and the dual pleasure of stimulation almost made Starscream go mad. He pushed down, thrusting into Shrapnel’s mouth, keening loudly as the egg slid down, down, down, touching on every node and stretching every caliper, until he unashamedly screamed his overload, expelling the egg along with the transfluid shooting into Shrapnel’s intake.

The sharp crackle and pop of displaced air heralded the arrival of his two trinemates.

“Scrap, we missed one,” Skywarp complained. “Three left, right?”

“Three left, left,” Shrapnel confirmed, easing the second egg to lie next to its brother in the puddle of lubricant. He had a line of transfluid running down from the side of his mouth. The sight was enough to have Starscream’s calipers clenching again.

“Primus, ‘Warp, you weren’t kidding,” Thundercracker said softly. He walked around until he was at Starscream’s back, and Starscream leaned forward to let Thundercracker slip into the nest behind him. His larger trinemate lifted him easily, moving him gently until they were both comfortably settled with Starscream up against Thundercracker’s front. Thundercracker used his hand to turn Starscream’s face toward his own, then kissed him.

“Skywarp told me what you’re doing,” he murmured as the kiss ended. “I don’t fully agree, but that’s mainly because you didn’t tell us. I don’t like you taking a risk like this alone. We can’t protect you if we don’t know what’s going on, Star.”

“I was protecting _you_ ,” Starscream replied tiredly. “ _I’m_ trineleader. _I’m_ Winglord. The burden is mine to bear.”

“And your burdens are ours to share, as your trine,” Thundercracker countered firmly. “Don’t forget that part.”

“He always forgets that part,” Skywarp said. “I think he overwrites it manually every time we manage to impress it on him again.”

“Not true,” Starscream said, turning toward his younger trinemate. “I’m just trying to shield you, dumbaft. Isn’t it enough that one of us suffers under Megatron’s fist?”

“This doesn’t look like suffering, though,” Thundercracker pointed out.

“No,” Starscream agreed, sighing. “No, this isn’t suffering.” He frowned, leaning forward slightly. “Here comes the next one.”

“Oh, slag,” Skywarp breathed, leaning closer. Shrapnel leaned back, letting him see.

Starscream moaned at the now familiar sensations – familiar, but no less overwhelming. Thundercracker whispered steady encouragements in his audial, strong grey hands caressing his abdominal plating. Combined with Shrapnel’s glossa working over his anterior node, and Skywarp’s continuous praise and hot commentary next to him, Starscream overloaded before the egg was even halfway down his valve.

“Oh, slag,” Skywarp moaned again, and Starscream caught sight of the purple seeker’s array covers sliding back. “Oh slag, Star, you’re so hot, I can’t take it.”

“Need a hand with that?” Kickback smirked.

“Depends,” Skywarp replied, smirking back. “Will I end up carrying Insecticon spawn too?”

“Not unless you want to.” Kickback crowded against Skywarp and ran his hands down his sides.

Starscream groaned then, as the egg pushed his lowest calipers to their limits. Shrapnel eased it the rest of the way with his fingers, placing it gently and almost reverently with the first two.

“There was a second clutch promised, promised,” he said noncommittally.

Starscream leaned forward and thwacked him in the helm. “Oh no you don’t. You’re not giving my second clutch to Skywarp. He can make his own arrangements.” He shot a look at his trinemate. “Shrapnel’s mine. You can do what you wish with Kickback, spawn or no spawn.”

Kickback chuckled, letting his glossa run across Skywarp’s audial. It was as long and prehensile as Shrapnel’s, Starscream noticed, and his valve clenched.

“Perhaps a trial run, then?” the winged Insecticon crooned, pressing against Skywarp’s back. “If you want?”

Skywarp just moaned, palming his spike eagerly.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Kickback said smugly. He turned to look down at Thundercracker, still sitting behind Starscream. “What about you? Want to wait for Bombshell?”

“Oh, I’m not interested in joining in,” Thundercracker replied, pulling Starscream closer . “But I’m more than happy to watch.”

Starscream smiled. He found the grey hand on his waist and gave it a squeeze. “Love you, Thunder.”

“Love you too, Star,” the other mech murmured, nuzzling his helmvent.

“And I love both of you,” Skywarp said with a smile. He turned toward Kickback. “Can you take me while I suck Star’s spike? I’ve been wanting to do that since I got here.”

“My pleasure.” Kickback’s fingers traced Skywarp’s golden cockpit. “Get down, then.”

“Here, here,” Shrapnel said, handing Starscream another cube of energon. When he’d drained that, he was handed another smaller one full of coolant.

“You’re more than halfway,” Thundercracker said comfortingly. “How do you feel?”

“Like I want Skywarp to suck my spike,” Starscream groaned, and his trinemate chuckled. “I want Skywarp to suck me dry, and I want to keep laying until I pass out from the overloads, and then I want Shrapnel to frag me so we can do it all again.” He turned his head into Thundercracker’s neck and kissed the silver cabling. “And somewhere in there, at least once, I want your spark.” He tensed against Thundercracker’s frame. “Number four.”

As if it was a signal, his spike was encased in the hot perfection that was Skywarp’s mouth. Starscream turned his head enough to see Kickback curving over Skywarp’s back, glossa teasing at wing hinges and fingers probing at his valve.

“Shrapnel,” Starscream moaned, and his Insecticon complied, pushing Starscream’s thighs apart until he could fit his head between them and lick over sensitive valve lips.

“You’re doing so good,” Thundercracker murmured, his grey hand holding Starscream’s. “You’re so beautiful like this. I could watch you forever. And I want you to take my spark afterward, lick it until I’m incoherent, if that’s what you want. You’re amazing, Star, so strong. I can’t believe you’re doing this for us.”

Starscream whined under their combined touches, feeling the egg moving down his valve. It slid easier now, his valve relaxing around it, but that didn’t make it any less pleasant. If anything, it made the pleasure stronger.

He cried out at the first overload, shooting his transfluid into Skywarp’s intake. The second one came as the egg slipped free of him, just as Shrapnel nipped at his anterior node. The combined sensations were enough to throw him offline for a moment. He was groggy when he blinked back to consciousness.

“Star,” Thundercracker said, nuzzling him. “I’m sorry, my love, but you can’t rest yet. You have one more to go.”

“Mmkay,” Starscream replied, not onlining his optics, head lolling weakly against Thundercracker’s chest. “Sure.”

“Come on, Star, Star,” Shrapnel urged. “One more, and I promise you can recharge, recharge. You’ve been so good, good.”

Starscream tried to muster the energy to answer, he really did. He didn’t have it.

“He’s barely conscious,” Thundercracker said, sounding a bit distressed.

“Let’s turn him around, around,” Shrapnel replied. “His frame knows what to do, do.”

Starscream moaned in complaint as he was shifted around. His back was cold without Thundercracker’s plating against it, but he could feel that strong spark against his chest, and he could feel his mates’ presence over the trine bond. In the back, the sounds of Skywarp crying out in pleasure were slightly muted by the fuzz in his audials.

“Come on, love,” Thundercracker hummed. “One more.”

“One m’re,” Starscream slurred, and bore down. His frame felt almost disconnected from his mind, and he was only distantly aware of the slide of egg against nodes, of calipers clenching, of a glossa working over his wing hinges and a hand stroking his spike. As he overloaded again, the egg slipped from his valve.

“Five, five,” Shrapnel breathed behind him, and there was a soft splash. “Relax now, my beautiful Star, Star.”

“’Kay,” Starscream agreed. He was offline before he finished speaking.

 

When he woke up, he was clean and warm and resting against a familiar chassis. He turned his head slightly, nuzzling Thundercracker’s plating.

He winced as discomfort shot through every part of his frame.

“Welcome back,” Thundercracker said, and Starscream could hear the smile. “How do you feel?”

“Like every part of my frame’s been pulled apart and reassembled by a blind mech with claws for hands,” Starscream complained.

“Multiple overloads will do that to you,” Thundercracker replied. “It’ll pass. Do you feel well enough to sit up and have some energon?”

Starscream nodded. “Help me up, and I’ll manage.”

With Thundercracker’s assistance, he was soon upright with a cube in his hand. He onlined his optics and found he was still in the nest, but it was now clean. It also looked like it had been expanded to almost double its previous size. The puddle of lubricant was still there, though, five glowing orbs resting in it. He briefly wondered what in pit Shrapnel had lined the nest with to keep the fluid from soaking into the fabric, but his focus soon shifted to the eggs themselves.

“Look at them,” Starscream said wonderingly. “I never thought they would be beautiful.” He sipped carefully at his cube, his hands trembling as he lifted it. “Where are the others?”

“Skywarp is on monitor duty,” Thundercracker replied. “He’s covering your shift. We told Megatron you’d worked all night on an experiment.”

“All night?” Starscream asked, frowning. “How long was I out?”

“Since yesterday morning.” Thundercracker reached around him to help steady his cube. “Three consecutive shifts.”

“Slag,” Starscream cursed. “Megatron’s going to offline me.”

“Megatron doesn’t care right now,” Thundercracker replied. “The Combaticons started some kind of trouble, and he’s got his hands full.”

That had Starscream chuckling. Let someone else take the brunt of that brute’s anger for once. “And the Insecticons?”

“Foraging,” his trinemate said. “Did you know they can digest just about anything and turn it into fuel? They can even feed others that way. Most of the energon they have available here didn’t come from the Decepticon stockpile.”

“Huh.” Starscream looked down at his cube. “Guess I would have been a lot more disturbed by that a week ago than I am now.”

“You and me both,” Thundercracker agreed.

They sat in silence as Starscream consumed the rest of his cube.

“So what now?” he asked eventually. “Why are we still down here?”

“We’re letting you recuperate, and I’m watching you and the eggs while the others are out,” Thundercracker explained. “Then Shrapnel will watch the eggs while you and I get some work done.”

“Skywarp and Kickback?”

“Will probably be fragging every free moment of their time,” Thundercracker said bluntly. “’Warp got a taste for it, same as you did, I suspect. That’s why the nest has been expanded.”

“I did wonder about that,” Starscream said.

“Yes. Shrapnel says we should expect their clutch down there with yours in a week and a half or so. Kickback’s eggs are apparently not quite ready to be fertilized yet.”

Starscream sighed. “Wonderful. I guess we’re stuck now, aren’t we? I’m sorry I landed us so deeply in this.”

“I’m not,” Thundercracker said. He shifted Starscream aside slightly until they were looking at each other. “Do you know what this means, Star?” He chuckled softly at Starscream’s oblivious look. “You don’t, do you? Shrapnel did tell me you didn’t read the file he provided properly.”

He reached up and nudged Starscream’s helm around until he looked down at the eggs again. “Those five Insecticons in there will be loyal to you when they’re grown,” he said softly. “They’ll recognize you as their leader, alongside Shrapnel. Once they hatch, a few weeks from now, they’ll be fully grown in just a couple of months. In that time, you can have six or seven more clutches, if you want. That’s forty Insecticons loyal to you within six months. Add that to whatever Skywarp decides to pop out, and we’ll soon be at the head of an army rivaling Megatron’s. Especially if the rest of the seekers follow you instead of him. And as I’ve said, the Insecticons are incredibly versatile. They can survive on this planet without the Autobots noticing, if they’re clever. That’s why Shrapnel was holding back on finding a host,” Thundercracker finished, as Starscream stared wide-eyed at the five eggs. “He wanted someone they could work with, someone who wouldn’t tie them closer to Megatron.”

“An army,” Starscream breathed, still shocked. “I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it,” Thundercracker replied. “This could be enough to free us, Star.” He nuzzled Starscream’s helm. “I love you so much.”

Starscream stared at the eggs for a moment longer before turning around in his trinemate’s arms. “The feeling is mutual.” He grinned. “And look, I feel much better.” His tone changed, edging into a purr. “Now, I do believe you promised me your spark.”

Thundercracker smiled and leaned back, his chest plate splitting down the middle. With an eager sound, Starscream leaned down over his trinemate’s spark casing.

 

 


End file.
